


critical thinking

by katcchako



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Dirty Thoughts, Finger Sucking, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Teacher!iwaizumi, otherwise known as the oneshot where oikawa gets off thinking about his favorite teacher, student!Oikawa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 18:13:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8855812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katcchako/pseuds/katcchako
Summary: Oikawa can’t focus on his homework like this, not when his thoughts are swimming in the murky, dirty, dark parts of his mind. The parts where the classroom is just a place and Iwaizumi-sensei is the only thing that matters, shoving into him, pressing his face down against his cold desk and letting his voice fill the room while Iwaizumi fills him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kimmykinda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimmykinda/gifts).



> when your boyfriend tells you about an iwaoi student/teacher au, your priorities become unreliable and you forget you have two unfinished, ongoing fics that need to be updated.

There’s nothing in his head but lust, clouding around a familiar face. Oikawa can’t focus on his homework like this, not when his thoughts are swimming in the murky, dirty, dark parts of his mind. The parts where Iwaizumi-sensei is there, looming over him with that confident smirk he gets sometimes; the parts where there’s something white dripping from the rims of Sensei’s glasses that Oikawa never wants him to take off and makes that remains clear; the parts where the classroom is just a place and Iwaizumi-sensei is the only thing that matters, shoving into him, pressing his face down against his cold desk and letting his voice fill the room while Iwaizumi fills him.

As always, the imagery has Oikawa shivering, lips parted in want and eyes closed in expectancy. He’s sitting at his desk at home which is not the ideal spot to imagine his favorite teacher taking advantage of him in all the raunchy ways he’s pictured and all the ways yet to be pictured. Oikawa’s desire to feel him outweighs his desire to finish the paper in front of him—he can always finish it later—as he rises from his desk chair. His bed is much more comfortable and suited for this, anyways.

He sits at the edge of his bed, letting the image come to him. Iwaizumi-sensei’s strong hands are on him, roaming over him, fingers gliding down Oikawa’s slender neck, and Oikawa raises his hand to his neck to match the touch. The hands in his head move down his torso next. In his thoughts his shirt is cast aside, so he decides to make it a reality but not before letting his palms slide down his chest. Oikawa’s fingers curl into the hem of his shirt, and then it’s off, crumpled on the floor beside his bed.

Oikawa lies flat on his back, eyes closed as hands that he wishes weren’t his own move up his body, fingers dancing against his skin. Iwaizumi-sensei’s lips are near his ear, he presses the softest of kisses against the lobe before he nips at it, and Oikawa exhales some kind of noise that sounds vaguely like his teacher’s name.

What shame? There is no shame. Lips find Oikawa’s jaw and hands move downward accordingly. Oikawa’s fingers brush against the waist of his pants—his imagination is taking too long to catch up with his wants, so he fast forwards a bit, mumbling a swear word into the air as he lifts his hips in order to tug his pants down. Iwaizumi-sensei is teasing him, tracing a line up and down the cock rising in his boxers. Oikawa does the same, fingers itching to do more, but this time he waits for Iwaizumi to move first.

And he does, god he does. Oikawa presses his palm against himself, raising his hips and grinding into his hand. “ _Sensei,_ ” he whispers, voice already starting to feel strained. He lets his hips fall for a moment to he can shimmy up onto his bed more. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes—I’m getting comfy!—before setting his hand over Oikawa’s crotch and letting him go to town again.

But it doesn’t last long. Iwaizumi sneaks his hand beneath the waistband of Oikawa’s boxers and toys with him more, not that there’s much room for him to do anything before he’s peeling said boxes off. Oikawa doesn’t push them far, just enough to let his cock free. The cool air of his bedroom hits hard but it’s fine, it’s _fine_ , as Oikawa takes hold of himself. He waits for Iwaizumi to do something before he goes on.

 _“Open your mouth, Oikawa,”_ Iwaizumi-sensei demands, and Oikawa does. Two fingers glide against the pink of his lips before delving past them and into his mouth. Oikawa slides his tongue along his fingers while his other hand is occupied with trying not to stroke his cock. _“Be a good boy and suck.”_

Oikawa complies, and when he does, Iwaizumi rewards him by giving one long, slow stroke up his length. It takes everything out of Oikawa not to bite down on his fingers as his other hand jerks him into further submission.

 _“That’s a good boy… you like that, do you?”_ Sensei quips against his neck, Oikawa’s hand matching the pace he visualizes Iwaizumi using. _“You’re gross, thinking about me while you touch yourself like this,”_

“I kn—I know,” Oikawa moans, muffled around his fingers, nodding against his mattress. His hand is doing wonders though he can imagine the difference it would make if it were actually Iwaizumi’s. “God, I know, _fuck,_ ”

 _“Tell me what you’d like me to do if I were really there,”_ God, why does his imaginary representation of Iwaizumi want him to talk? Does he want him to die? Probably. Iwaizumi seems like the kind of man that would be into freaky shit like that—

Oikawa twists his wrist, better angling himself, toes curling as his hand moves faster up and down his cock. He gives his fingers a final sick before pulling them from his lips with a _pop_ , a visible line of saliva connecting the gap between his mouth and fingers before he snaps his hand away completely, dropping it to his bed and clenching the covers.

“I want you to fuhhh— _ahh—”_ Oikawa cuts his own voice off, choking on it. He takes a moment to indulge, thumbing over the slit before his hand quickens again, arching his hips completely off of his bed when doing so. “Fuck me—please, se—sensei, I’m _begging,_ ” and he is, he really, really is, even if he’s there by himself.

The heat pools heavily in his stomach, warning lights flashing in his head behind the images of Iwaizumi-sensei’s godly, perfectly sculpted face. Oikawa is close, he’s so close, but there’s so much more he wants to see before he reaches his end. Iwaizumi takes over his mind, his movements, his entire being, often enough that Oikawa thinks he’s have enough at some point. It would never be enough though.

It won’t be enough until Iwaizumi is slotted between his legs, holding Oikawa up by his aching hips, hard and complete with want inside of him. Oikawa has never wanted anything, any _one_ so badly, and here he is, lusting almost viciously for his favorite teacher. The very teacher who praises him on a job well done, scolds him on the rare occasion that he’s late to class, wears glasses that he doesn’t need, is friendlier than any of the other teachers, is broader and more muscular and wears shirts with sleeves folded up to his elbows, laughs at really bad science jokes, speaks in low tones and lower tones when it’s just him and Oikawa—

Oikawa gasps, eyes snapping open when he feels himself give way, pleasure shooting down his body and spilling over his hand. He’s panting, he doesn’t want to be done. He wants more, Oikawa wants so much more…

 _“You’re such a dirty fuck,”_ Iwaizumi returns for just a moment to insult him, but it’s fond in the way Oikawa imagines it. _“But that was nice.”_

It was, Oikawa agrees silently, still panting as he shifts onto his side. His hand is sticky and he feels gross and sweaty. He should shower… but there’s no harm in a little nap before he cleans up and finishes his homework.

Behind his eyelids there are still images of Iwaizumi, though this time they aren’t as lustful and vulgar. He sees him at his desk grading assignments, sees him at the window on a rainy day and the way the dreary fog behind the glass cannot compete with his teacher’s glow. Sees him smiling during a presentation, or showing the class an experiment through a lab with those dumb safety goggles looking clunky and tacky as hell over his glasses. Oikawa sees Iwaizumi in all kinds of visions as he drifts off, with one final thought in mind:

There is no way he is going to be able to look Iwaizumi in the eye tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmGOD.


End file.
